


Bette, I Have Something to Tell You

by Chicki



Category: The L Word (TV 2004)
Genre: F/F, circa 2009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicki/pseuds/Chicki
Summary: The aftermath of Tina's interrogation tapes...
Relationships: Tina Kennard/Bette Porter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 15





	Bette, I Have Something to Tell You

BETTE, I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU  
By Chicki

When the police were through picking apart my life, I felt emotionally exhausted. All I wanted was to go home and surrender myself to Bette’s loving and safe arms. 

My past was something I didn’t delve into unless I absolutely had to, and even then…there were parts that I chose to keep buried…as deep as I could. It had been years since I gave thought to what happened to me as a child. My sister. My older sister was the cream and crop of our family; the one who was the apple of my father’s eye and who could do no wrong. 

I was eleven years old. Some would be quick to judge me and say that I should have been able to stop things. That I was old enough to “know better” and … worse…some might say I deserved what happened to me. Can you imagine sitting with my parents and explaining that their valedictorian daughter had been messing with me for three years? Yeah…I think you know how that would have gone. It was useless to say anything. My sister was graduating high school and going on to Trinity University in Texas. She would no longer be in our home, thus bringing the “activities” to a halt. I could deal with living home for the next few years until I graduated high school and could move away…and never…never look back.

Why did I tolerate it? I had asked myself that a million times, particularly before I finally went to therapy while in college. If I were five…six…even seven I could let some accountability go, but I was eleven. For the longest time I felt responsible for not stopping it. Two years in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, DBT as it’s known today saved my life. As an outpatient, I had to attend a session once a week for two hours. I was shocked by how many other people, women in particular, had suffered a similar form of trauma in their life. The post traumatic stress syndrome had started to take control of my life when I started college. Though it was wonderful to be away from home and in a whole new situation, college life brought academic stress along with…dating. The culmination of both at once had brought on a lot of PTSD symptoms.

I had avoided dating anyone all through high school. I couldn’t deal with the fact that I wasn’t a virgin anymore, at least not in the clinical sense. How on earth would I ever explain that to someone I was to become intimate with? It was easier to forego that aspect in high school. College however, well that was a totally different arena. You were “expected” to at least be sharing crushes with your most closest friends. It was hard when all I wanted was to avoid anything remotely close to being “intimate.” I forced myself to date guys as I thought that it would help me avoid remembering what my sister had done. If I could just make myself be with a man, it would fix everything right? Wrong. In truth, it only made it worse because I hadn’t dealt with the violation.

DBT helped heal the tremendous pain that I carried for those years. It was empowering to put away those old wounds and learn the skills necessary to lead a productive life. I was lucky that I could be part of those who are survivors. I was lucky that I could go on to have relationships with men, and then finally…with a woman. Sure I was scared as hell when I found myself forming feelings for Bette. She was the first woman that ever struck a chord with me. Maybe I had been denying myself the attraction for women all along, but for whatever reason this woman got through. A part of becoming a survivor was dealing with the past, but then putting it away…for good. That is what I did…until today.

“Tee…” Bette stood from the uncomfortable wooden chair in the lobby. 

The moment I saw her, my face turned warm and I started crying. Her arms surrounded me, and in an instant I felt safe, like nothing could harm me. My arms wrapped around her body, and I buried my face into her shoulder.

“Shhh….it’s going to be okay…I promise.” 

Bette’s hand caressed my hair, like it had so many times before. This time, there was something even more soothing about it. Perhaps it was because of the vulnerability I was feeling. “I want to go home,” I whispered into her clothing.

When Bette released her embrace she looked into my moistened eyes. “It was difficult, I know. They have a job to do Tee.”

“I know they do,” I said weakly. “I just…I don’t want to be here anymore.”

I felt Bette’s arm slide to the small of my back and guide me to the parking lot. Once I was inside her car, I searched inside my purse for the bottle of Xanax which was sure to be expired by now. When I couldn’t find it, more tears came.

“Tina…” Bette’s hand wrapped around my wrist. “What do you need babe?”

“My Xanax….I…I feel like I can’t breathe Bette.”

“Look at me. Tee…here.” With her free hand Bette pointed to her eyes. “Look at me.”

I brought my eyes to hers and they became sheltered. 

“Take a slow breath in…and let it out slowly.”

Bette mimicked the breathing, which I focused on following. She caressed my hand, offering occasional reinforcement that I would be okay….that we would be okay.

“It…it’s not going to be okay.” I felt myself cracking. I never wanted to go to that place again…but I had to answer their questions. I had to be as honest as possible. Would Bette understand? How would she react? I always told her that my family had been un-accepting of my lifestyle, and that was the reason that ties were severed. I was just…so embarrassed…humiliated. We hardly spoke of my family…and…well it was something she just accepted.

There is so much ignorance that exists in this world today, and when Bette and I first got together, we were just starting to see one another when she asked about my family. I just wasn’t sure how she would react to such a tragic set of circumstances. While most people would try to find some understanding…offer compassion…there are just as many ignorant people in the world who can’t wait to mock such an act…make you feel tarnished…used. Heck, I was happy to keep the past just where it was…in the past. I knew I wouldn’t ever have a relationship with my family, so in my eyes…there was no need to reveal something which Bette didn’t need to take on. I had felt humiliated for so much of my life, that I didn’t want to bring that piece into my new life, my healthier life…the me which felt had a new birth date when I had come out of therapy. I wasn’t the person I was when I was young. I had grown so much and made so much progress. The last thing I wanted was to share something so intimate and private and…painful when we first started dating. Had the question somehow come up much later, then perhaps I may have felt less vulnerable in sharing it. Growth….it was something I seen take place in myself when Bette and I had split up for awhile. Today I’m not the woman I was even four years ago. I have my shit together…at least I felt I did…until that question. That one diabolic question. 

Today, because our relationship is so strong, I could feel safe sharing this part of myself with her. Before…I just didn’t see what the purpose of that would be. She is the love of my life. In my eyes she IS my first. She is the first woman I had a consensual relationship with, and whom I shared my body with out of mutual love for one another. When questioned by the police, I answered in a clinical sense. In reality, the first person to have touched me in a sexual way, even if it were deviant was my sister. I answered the question with as much truth and honesty as I could. Bette wasn’t my first…in “that” sense, but in the sense of my first woman, the love of my life whom I made love with…she was…she was my first. The police however, didn’t care to let me elaborate. They just wanted the facts…the basic truths. I did push, though I’m sure they will fast forward beyond those areas where I tried to explain myself, for it wasn’t “the facts”…just the facts.

“Shhhh…” 

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

“No need to be sorry Tee. Let’s just go home and I’ll make you some chamomile tea and run you a hot bath okay?”

My tears slowed…the remnants began to dry on my face. The woman whom I adored and who had asked me to marry her not long ago, was once again there for me. She too had gone through her own series of questions today, but for me…she was strong.

As she drove, I rested my head against her arm. I felt myself slowly relax as I nuzzled further into the warmth that her flesh provided.

Once we arrived home, Bette was prepared to run the bath when I stopped her. I touched her arm lightly, and turned her so she was facing me. “I would love if you would join me…in the tub.”

Her hand slid along my jaw line, and the next thing I felt was her soft lips against mine. “Sure…I can do that.”

#

I dropped the last piece of my clothing to the ground as the steam filtered from the bathroom into the bedroom. In my nakedness I felt free…no restraints…just a freedom from within. Bette was already in the tub, enjoying the strong jets of water that surrounded the sides. We hadn’t enjoyed this new bathroom nearly enough, but tonight I felt we would get our money’s worth. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, so …I expected we wouldn’t emerge from there for quite some time.

“Come here,” Bette said as she extended her hand to mine once I entered the bathroom.

I reached forward and felt her soft hand surround my own as she helped me into the tub. The times we both shared a relaxing bath, one of us would typically lean back into the other. On this night, it was important that I look my best friend, my lover, my future wife in the eyes as I shared what I knew I needed to. I had gone into this relationship with Bette with a secret that I never felt needed to be shared. Perhaps it was the cops inability to allow me to elaborate on Bette being my “first” in terms of my heart. Whatever it was, I felt it was necessary to talk to her…to begin our lives as a married couple with all things shared, including a piece of my life I would rather have kept at rest.

When I got into the tub and faced her, her brows curved in question.

I wrapped my legs over hers and around her back so I could be as close as possible. Though her eyes questioned me, her lips never moved. 

“Bette…..” It was the only word I could get out. I took a deep breath, cupped some water in my hand and allowed it to cascade down her shoulder. “I need to share something with you.”

Bette’s eyes scanned my own. I didn’t look directly at her, not yet, but I knew. I knew her well enough to know that she was searching. Once again I cupped some warm water in the palm of my hand and brought it to her shoulder, watching as the water made separate lines along her flesh.

“….I….I shared something with the police today….that….that I never told you.”

When I made a third attempt at cupping the water, I felt Bette’s hand take hold of my own. Our eyes met, and in that moment I knew I could feel safe telling her. I just knew that this woman who had my heart, my soul, all of me…that she would understand. God we had been through so much together…I was certain that the love we shared was going to be enough to see us through. With no one else would I have ever felt that…she was my soul mate…my one and only.

“It’s really hard to share….”

Bette brought my hand to her mouth and gently placed a kiss on the back of it. “You can tell me whatever you have to…whatever it is…it will be safe with me Tina.”

I nodded as a tear escaped the confines of my lid. 

“Even if you killed Jenny…” Bette joked.

I couldn’t believe it, I had this incredibly difficult and serious thing to share with her, and there she goes dropping one of her one liners. I couldn’t help but shake my head and laugh as I dropped my head forward into her body. “You totally made me lose my train of thought.”

“I know,” Bette said solemnly. “It seemed like you needed to have things lighten up for a moment.”

She did know me, and know me well. It wasn’t unusual for Bette to use humor during some difficult moments in order to bring a smile to my face. This was one of those times, and … well it certainly allowed me a moment.

My face returned to its form as I continued searching for the words. 

“Tina, why don’t you just say what it is babe. Sometimes trying to construct it all in your head first only brings more anxiety.”

Her wet hands snaked through my hair as she pushed the strands from my face before dipping them into the water and taking hold of both of mine.

“They asked a lot of questions about my past.”

“Me too.”

“My family…”

Bette nodded in agreement.

“I told them about my father…his affairs….the poetry.”

“I remember you telling me something about that.”

“Some people think it’s twisted… my mother accepting a lot of his behavior, but the poetry being the ultimate betrayal.”

“As I mentioned to you a long time ago, when I was working one of the art shows, poetry is like art. For some people, there is enormous feeling and identity in what they create. I think for your mom, her entire heart, soul and being was in those poems. I don’t know Tee…guess the affairs in a physical sense didn’t bother her. Maybe the biblical sense of this body being just a shell and such…umm…maybe she didn’t put a lot of emphasis on the physical affair until….until he shared something which was a bonding of their souls. That betrayal was unforgivable.”

It wasn’t the first time Bette had explained her thoughts about why the poetry had been such an enormous symbol in her mother’s life. As she said, a particular art show where one of Bette’s guest speakers had used poetry with her paintings had prompted one of the very few discussions she had about her family.

“There was something else during the interviews…besides the poetry.”

Bette tilted her head as she listened.

“…something you don’t know about.”

In a room filled with steam, I felt my throat go dry. My eyes focused on hers. They were filled with comfort and understanding, long before my lips moved. The fear was doing everything in its power to overtake me, but instead…instead I chose to focus on the love…the honor…the purity of our relationship.

“They asked me if you were my first…”

Bette’s eyes quickly darted between each of mine. I could see the intensity in them grow as she waited for me to finish.

“They weren’t going to waste time letting me explain…the difference…the difference between consensual sex…and…and well they just wouldn’t let me explain that what I shared with you was loving and it was based on mutual devotion…attraction…” I knew my words were jumbled - that I was all over the place. When her hand slid along my jaw, the touch woke my senses. She was keeping me grounded in the moment. A most difficult moment.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“When I was eleven, my sister…she…we played house. I was always the man. She was the woman…”

Bette’s eyes widened. It wasn’t long that she began anticipating the rest.

“….when it first happened, I…I didn’t know, ya know? I mean she said it was role playing, that it was okay to experiment like that. That…that it was what kids did so that they were ready to be adults.”

Bette’s brows twisted as more truth was revealed.

“As it continued, I felt it becoming more and more wrong.”

”How…how long?” she asked, with tears in her eyes.

“Three…..”

Bette held her breath. “Weeks?”

“Years.”

Her eyes closed tight as she grabbed hold of me and brought me close. My arms wrapped around her as we both cried. The security and warmth of her love surrounding me in this safe cocoon was a place I could have remained forever. It must have been a good ten minutes before she loosened the embrace.

“I’m so sorry Bette.”

”Sorry,” her voice was broken. “What on earth for?”

“That I kept it from you.”

“Tina, I respect your judgment. If you were at peace keeping this piece of your life in your past, I would never judge you for doing so. For whose benefit would it have served to have you share something when you were not ready? My own? That would be selfish of me now wouldn’t it?”

“I never wanted to share such a … terrible part of my life. I didn’t want pity Bette. I still don’t. I didn’t want you to look at me like I was used.”

Bette choked on her words. “Used? My god Tina I would never look at you like that. No one has a perfect past. If they tell you they did then they are lying. Skeletons Tee…every closet has one.”

“It doesn’t take anything from the fact that you were my first love Bette… my very first real love.”

“I know that Tee.”

“They asked me…the cops…if you were my first.” Bette’s hands began sliding up and down my arms. “I told them my sister was...but I only said that because they are so black and white, the cops. I spoke from a clinical sense that I wasn’t a virgin anymore, that-”

“Shhhhh. Tee, do you feel you have to justify that admission to yourself?”

I shook my head that I didn’t.

“Then you certainly do not have to justify that to me.”

”There’s a difference,” I choked. “A big difference.”

“What is shared through love, will always be different than was occurs at the hands of a predator.” Bette’s jaw tightened. The thought of someone touching, violating the love of her life brought a level of torment. It was understandable why Tina would have wanted to keep this in the past…who wouldn’t?

“I wanted them to give me that chance though, to explain that in my heart and soul you were the first woman who ever touched me…I mean…really really touched me.”

“I know babe.”

“What?”

“I know I was.”

When she said those four words I felt a colossal weight lift from my body. It wasn’t just the burden that had been placed on it since that question had been asked in the interrogation room, but more like the weight of the entire secret itself. Her understanding I’ll never forget. 

Her lips brushed against my own as she sealed the past away through the most tender of kisses.

“I love you Tina.”

“First, last…and forever right?”

“No other love.”

Our arms once again found the other, surrendering ourselves to an embrace which merged our trust, honesty, and most of all…our love and understanding of one another. Later, the night would allow us the opportunity to cuddle close in bed, where I would eventually tell her my life story…my whole entire life story. It was going to be okay though, because the love that Bette and I shared was unique and unmatched. It really was that no other love…I knew it when I first met her…and I knew it today.

b ~ THE END ~

© 2009 Chicki  
Disclaimer:  
This Fan Fiction posting contains fictitious characters and a fictitious storyline. Most characters belong to Ilene Chaiken and Showtime Television. Readers must not modify, copy/plagiarize, disseminate, or take action in reliance upon it, unless permitted by the said author of this Fan Fiction posting. None of the materials provided on this Fan Fiction posting may be used, reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including the use of any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from author.


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